#|meme reply

I chose:  ‘ sometimes people have to get hurt for me to get what i want. ’

Teeth grit as fists curl, anger bubbling up in a wave that is not uncommon, but uneeded. He can’t lose his cool, not when his opponent cackles and mocks; holding a Keyblade that bares the sharpness of it’s teeth with each blow. He is strong, but so is this Wielder-- and he’s faster too. It’s not an automatic loss, but he struggles here, his attacks landing a second or more too late and hitting nothing but ghosts of where the other had been standing. His weakness mocking-- it’s infuriating.

“You’re wrong.” He says it less in a statement of fact and more of an opinion of person. The Unversed cackle like the other, gathering around as negative emotions summon them, and he struggles. The fight will end poorly if he loses his cool more than he already has; he knows that his own lack of self control can summon more Unversed to the area. Why do they seem to ignore him though? He doesn’t know, but he will find out. His Keyblade hums, encouragement swimming in the blood that pounds through his ears as he yells; another attack lunging through him at the other.

“Is that what you think?”

Children has weakness. You pick at it, like a scab, and the weakness bleeds out. Gently chipping at their faults would help shape them over time. That is what a good mentor does; they figure out their pupil’s weaknesses and help pick at it, making it bleed out, and wash away. They were some of the unlucky ones: the pupils who didn’t have good mentors. Their mentors picked at the wounds to the point they got bigger, reached in, and tugged until they found the most crippling bit. Until he found the most crippling bit.

Darkness is in everything after all.

His words almost carry a chuckle to them, a soft roll of noise that might be familiar to Saïx. The Nobody that was made from this body shared some of this body’s cues after all-- his body’s cues. The lines of individuality blurred years ago, when memories were scattered by an act of good will, and youthful determination was paired with aged cunning. He is still there though, despite it all. He lingers, despite his failures, and his misguided actions. He will never stop fighting. He hopes he’s not the only one.

“Do you like it? The Darkness. How it aches and creeps inside. These coats-- they don’t do much. It’s a band-aid on a wound, but there’s still poison being dribbled on top. If you stay you know what will happen.” Did he have a choice? Did they have a choice? Yes. “I don’t remember you being the type to back down.”

“No one deserves to die!”

His voice booms; projected proudly from within him in a deceleration of ideals. A body disintegrates between them, the Heart fluttering away to Kingdom Hearts, where it would be safe. He will make sure it makes it there safely, his Keyblade already summoned, and humming in familiar energy beside him. Shadows skirt around, hungry, but wary. Their Her Darkness calls to them, as does the exposed Heart, but he won’t allow it. He won’t stand down.

“You act as if life is something that can just be thrown away! Like it’s-- a toy! Don’t pretend you’re so self-entitled to dictate the lives of others. You have no right!” Anger crawls like a line of blotted violet through him, blurring his edges with feathery tendrils of something familiar as his heart pounds in his chest. He had just watched her throw away someone else’s life like it was nothing. She acted as if this was all nothing. How absurd. How-- liberating.